


Trampoline

by Sardonic_Grin



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Action & Romance, Alcohol, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Eventual Sex, M/M, Mentioned Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Mystery, POV Reno (Compilation of FFVII), Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), Reno (Compilation of FFVII) Being An Asshole, Top Cloud Strife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24525616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sardonic_Grin/pseuds/Sardonic_Grin
Summary: Reno's looking for redemption at the bottom of a bottle.Cloud may have an alternative idea.Finding redemption together.
Relationships: Reno/Cloud Strife
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	Trampoline

**Author's Note:**

> Something new and different from Cherry Soda Boy. Takes place in Universe.  
> Somewhat inspired by the song Trampoline by SHEAD. No idea why.  
> Also the chapter title is inspired by the Lost episode title of the same name. Also my mantra.

**_Trampoline_ **

**_Chapter One: All Cowboys have Daddy Issues_ **

This place was for the wounded.

The broken

A perfect sanctuary for the lost.

And Edge had plenty to go around.

But the Seventh Heaven Bar acted like a beacon; a candle for the moths to congregate.

That’s where Reno found himself most nights, at the end of the pine with a glass of whiskey and dodging uncertain glances from the red-eyed bar keep.

And the other patrons who recognized his uniform and scowled at what it represented. 

A relic. That’s what he was.

The last of a dying breed that everyone wished would go extinct. 

And on the good days, he couldn’t blame them- he pushed the button that dropped the plate. No amount of rebuilding could wash the blood off those hands. Not even acting as backup for the heroes bought him so much as a thank you. So when he woke up from the blackout nightmares, he thought it was some kind of penance. 

But on the bad days- when the poison he poured down his throat hit just a little too hard- he found himself wishing Meteorfall had wiped out every

Last

One

Of those vacant assholes.

Who burned holes in the back of his head with their glares of disapproval. 

And always one tough guy,

Who had a little bit too much,

And wants to impress the owner,

Thinks it’s a good idea to jump him at the bar.

On those good days, he lets it happen; smiling deliriously as weak fists meet his jaw until he’s laughing on the floor of the alley through his bloodied mouth.

But on the bad days-he doesn’t remember.

He usually comes to when he hears Tifa yelling at him to stop, and Rude trying to pull him off his unfortunate victim- who's neither smiling or laughing. 

Reno didn’t really mind the good days or the bad days. 

Black and white.

And he was gray. 

The middle of being a terrible person following orders blindly. 

And maybe just a little bit of a sacrificial lamb. 

It was an easy script to follow, when someone else writes the lines. 

Then, on a good day, the real hero changed the narrative. 

The last thing Reno remembered was a muscle man with something to prove sitting next to him. 

Spouting a few choice words. 

Downing the last bit of his drink; and offering nothing but a shrug. 

Till his face was against the concrete dirt and some middle-aged man’s fist caught his eye.

And Reno had to laugh at the vision of one of the more ruthless Turks on the floor in the back alley of a shitty bar, just letting this gentleman- who had probably never been in a real fight- add fresh black and blues. 

And he wished for a moment he was back when Wall Market still existed,

And he was a rockstar.

And could walk into any whore house and the women would flock to him; like he was the flame.

And for a moment he felt synthetic happiness.

Then the man was off him. 

Against the flimsy wooden wall that kept the bar together. When Reno’s eye adjusted, he considered the possibility that he actually passed out when he saw the ex-SOLDIER, non-SOLDIER, had the man by the neck with one hand and his other on the hilt of his sword. 

Surprise. To say the least. Cloud Strife, the two time hero. The puppet who took down the master had been missing from both Reno’s good days and bad days; an absence Reno felt when the alcohol hadn’t clouded his brain. Somewhere beneath his chest, where his heart still thumps against his ribcage, that he neither understands nor desires. He begged for silence at the bottom of a bottle. 

Emotions are a death sentence for a Turk. 

But he feels it for a moment when he sees Cloud illuminated by dull orange alley lights. The thump. The hint of life. 

“Touch him again,” the blond man’s voice so dangerously low that Reno snorted. Like a child playing a role. “And I’ll end you.”

The man managed a shuddering nod and Cloud released him. He scrambled down the alley, his frantic footsteps echoing down the dark street. 

The mako-eyed man turned his attention to the battered red-head, sitting up against the building with that sick smile on his bruised face. Breathing heavily like his lungs struggled for air. 

“Tifa told me you were causing problems,” Cloud walked in front of Reno, extending a helpful hand despite his disappointed tone. 

Reno spat out the blood forming in his mouth and pushed the blonde’s hand away. “This is more of a me problem than a you problem, SOLDIER boy.”

“You’re quickly becoming a  _ me _ problem,” Cloud responded sharply, bringing his hand to the Turk again, “And you know I am not, nor was I ever, a SOLDIER.”

“Sure had me fooled there,” he laughed darkly. Reno hung his head trying to wave Cloud away, whose patience was wearing thin, “Go. Tell Tifa the problem has been taken care off. Have a drink on me, I have a tab open.”

Cloud rolled his eyes, “What’s your problem?” He grabbed Reno’s arm and aggressively pulled him to his feet, “You have a death wish?”

“Wishin’s for children. I haven’t wished for a damn thing since I hit puberty.” Reno dug into his pocket for a crumbled pack of cigarettes. Disappointed, most of the tiny white sticks were destroyed in the scuffle, except for one little hopeful. A good day indeed, the Turk thought as he lit up and blew the black smoke in Cloud’s face. “This is a redemption arc.”

Cloud cracked a snide smile, “Some redemption. I’m sure the guy whose nose you broke last week would disagree.”

“Everyone has their methods,” he sighed, “you disappear for months to sulk. I punch some people and get punched in return.”

“I’m not sulking,” Cloud countered, crossing his arms over his chest, “I have a job.”

“Oh! Right, the hero turned delivery boy,” he slapped his forehead dramatically, “How could I forget.”

The alcohol began to wear off, and the delirious feeling of swimming in an open lake was replaced with vibrations of pain that rocks through his face. His left eye twitched. Metallic liquid congealed in his mouth. He considered going back in, ordering the whole bottle, finishing it off and smashing it over his head to knock him out. But Rude was probably waiting for him to stumble in and fight him back to his apartment. 

A splash of water to his face rattled him. Murdered what was left of his cigarette. And then the pain was replaced with tingles glossing over the wounds. 

“Water, from the church,” Cloud said matter-of-factly, “I was getting tired of looking at your face banged up.”

Reno rubbed his face, narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him. “I thought you were done hiding in the church.”

“I go there from time to time,” Cloud said wistfully, “made a stop on the way here. Figured you would need it.”

“A warning next time, asshole.” He threw the remnants of his cigarette on the ground. Cloud watched him with an expression that Reno hated. Those sad, puppy-dog, mako-eyes looked upon the red-headed Turk with nothing but pity. Maybe even a hint of understanding. Reno recalled when they encountered one another at Healin. How Cloud looked utterly stone-faced. Blank. But behind his eyes, Reno could sense the murky memories rising and falling like bile in his stomach. And he at that point, pitied him enough he tripped out the door like a fool and let Cloud have that win. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

“Reno,” Cloud’s voice was so soft, it was almost patronizing, “Are you really interested in redemption?”

He arched an eyebrow, “Got any handy, blondie?” Cloud didn’t respond, he waited for Reno to toil the question through his own head. Reno always compared his mind like swamp. Thick and black and dangerous. That he would need to navigate slow, avoiding what laid below the surface. The question floating like debri from Meteorfall he never found how to use to rebuild. Himself. Or anyone else. 

And the good part of him wanted to follow along with whatever thread Cloud was dangling in his face this time. 

And the bad part of him wanted to walk down that alley, find another bar that would serve him all of his regrets in a glass. 

But he took one more second to dwell. 

And figured he’d owe Cloud this one: for something he did he could no longer remember. 

But weighed on his heart instead of his head, since the day he came to the bar and Cloud wasn’t there. And hadn’t returned until this moment, carrying a cure for Reno, and a promise to clear his soul. 

“Fuck it,” Reno grumbled, “I’m listening.”

And Cloud smiled, which was so unlike him that Reno took another second to contemplate if this exchange was a fever dream of epic proportions. Then Cloud nodded towards the back of the bar in a silent “follow me” and walked in the direction without so much as waiting for Reno. The red-head didn’t consider his next move, in fact, he felt pulled by a force to follow Cloud. He took them to the back entrance of the bar that led to the private quarters of the inhabitants. Reno tensed as he stepped through the door, met with a darkened hallway with a bright orange light at the end radiating around the closed door- where the loud conversations of the drunken patrons echoed. 

His initial instinct to prepare for an attack. 

From an enraged Tifa wanting him out or even Rude demanding he sleeps this one off. 

Cautiously, however, he followed Cloud down the stairs. 

When Reno saw the room, he realized someone had been a busy little bee. In a small office, that Reno remembered from late night conversations over a bottle with the blond, was a desk cluttered with piles of paperwork, walls with black and white pictures of men he had never seen, and some equipment that he recognized from labs around Shrina. 

He admired the Cloud’s handy work, “And what has the delivery boy been up to these days?”

Cloud placed his sword against an empty wall, pushed some of the papers to the side and took a seat on his desk. Meanwhile, Reno walked about the room, scanning the line of pictures. Men. Older men, in suits that looked too nice to have come from Edge, moving in and out of buildings he didn’t recognize. 

He stopped at one black and white image. It was part of Sector Five covered in rubble and debris that had not been used in the rebuild. He moved closer, trying to find the importance of this particular photo. Something familiar. 

“I’ve been investigating some of the underground labs Shinra has used before,” Cloud began, “Found some interesting artifacts.”

Reno grimaced, turning to the blonde, “most of those labs still require an ID and passcode, how did you manage-” Before he could finish, he noticed Cloud holding up a small, white, rectangle card. “You...bastard, how did you get that!” He charged for Cloud. Cloud responded by placing a firm hand on Reno’s shoulder that stopped him in his tracks. Scowling, Reno glared directly into those eyes that swirled like the lifestream. 

“You really need to stop drinking so much Reno,” Cloud cautioned, “It’s messing with your memory...and I know a little something about that.”

Blink. 

Reno recalled a moment that fluttered through his head like a butterfly.

Of being in this room

Except he sat on the desk with Cloud between his legs, indulging the taste of his mouth-

Something he never realized he wanted, but tasted better than all the alcohol in the world. 

And Cloud’s hands running down his chest to 

His pants-

“You pick pocketed me,” Reno shoved the offending limb off his shoulder.

“I didn’t intend to,” Cloud reasoned, “I was actually going to ask you to help me then but…” 

“But what?” 

Cloud sighed, handing Reno his ID card back, “Not important.” 

He hated the way Cloud’s voice dropped; the touch of sadness laced in his words. He blinked again waiting for the memory to continue.

Instead he’s met with the darkness he had grown accustomed to. 

And before he has a moment to press Cloud to reveal what transpired, he has a manilla folder shoved against his chest. “This is yours,” the blonde starts, “your file.”

Reno felt his chest tighten and teeth clench. He didn’t immediately grab the folder, or take his eyes off Cloud, instead narrowing his blue eyes at the man before him like an animal ready to pounce. Tense. The air hanging heavily in the room. 

“I figured you’d want it,” Cloud continued. 

“And why the fuck did you think that?” Reno seethed. 

Cloud sighed, dejectedly, placing the file the red-head refused to touch on the table. Reno stared at it- he knew the contents in a superficial sense. They contained where he came from; the location, the family name he abandoned a long time ago, his progress reports- 

_ Frequent acts of violence _

Any grades on any tests he was forced to complete

_ Acts out against Authority _

His past. One he rationalized never existed. 

“What are you trying to do, Cloud,” he said finally, trying to soften his voice but never taking his eyes off the table. 

“Somethings been bothering me, since I last fought Sephiroth-”

“Oh fuck,” Reno shouted, laughing bitterly, “you got to fuckin’ get over that guy.” 

“It was what he said to me,” Cloud edged, “Right before he disappeared.”

“Sephiroth is  _ dead _ , Cloud. You killed him.” He snapped his eyes at the man, who looked right back unyielding, and he saw the pain. How it etched across his iris’. The frown, that cracked along his face that he found himself often staring at. How he wished Cloud could move on; holding onto the ghosts of his past till they cut his hands. 

“Did I?” Cloud faltered, “I thought I had and he came back. What’s keeping him from coming back again?” 

Reno sighed, throwing his hands in the air like he’s given up on trying to reason with the blonde. They’ve had this argument,

Sometimes sober,

Mostly drunk. 

When it would descend into a verbal fight; Reno mocking him for believing in ghosts and Cloud’s vicious reminders that he also believes in lost causes. Shinra, the company, was dead. Buried under their own vile creations. 

Funny, that they both desired atonement; Cloud just went about it more proactively.

Which pissed the red-head off and caused him to storm off on more than one occasion,

Because it was just that easy for Cloud to be the hero

And it was too appealing for Reno to remain the villain. 

But if this was a redemption arc, then:

He took a seat next to Cloud on the table’s edge, close enough that his leg brushed up against the blonde’s, but he was too busy staring at the pictures of strange men from far away places that held an air of suspicion, to take notice. “You think someone is trying to resurrect Sephiroth again? Not very creative...” 

“I’m not sure,” Cloud admitted, “what I do know, some of these men have been lurking near the entrances to Shinra’s underground bunkers and I’ve followed them to all different parts of the world. Wutai, Gongaga...Nebelheim.”

“Well it seems you did most of the leg work here, so what do you want from me?”

Cloud rose from the desk and snatched the picture across from them; the one of Sector five, and showed it to Reno. “See the blue circle? There’s an entrance to a lab. Did you know that?”

Reno smirked, “Classified.”

Cloud didn’t seem amused, “Must be above your pay grade then, because your code didn’t work.”

“Not surprised; Turks don’t get free range, yo, despite what people say.”

“Well you got through all of them, except this one.”

“So what good am I to you then?” 

“Heideggar’s code worked,” Cloud retorted stiffly. He waited a moment for Reno to question him further, but the red-head didn’t even seem surprised that Cloud had managed to unlock the upper management's codes. “But I wasn’t able to get far. There’s a bomb on the gate with Shinra’s logo.”

“Disarming bombs not one of your skills, Strife?” Reno singsonged, amused at how the blonde, whose voice sounded so assured and commanding, looked like the boy soldier he was drafted to be. 

In over his head, and out of options. 

“No,” he admitted, “But I figured it might be one of yours.”

“Usually I build bombs, not disarm them…” he gently took the picture from Clouds hand; his fingers brushing against the blondes. He became aware of how close they were on the table. Cloud’s hand resting behind Reno as he leaned into his space. 

And when he blinks this time, he remembers the first time Cloud sat that close,

When a bad day loomed over his head. And one too many tough guys tried to surround him, 

With challenges that Reno was all too happy to take. 

But when he took his last shot and slammed his glass on the bar causing it to rattle, 

Cloud appeared, with his threatening voice that didn’t sound forced this time- like he wasn’t playing a role- and the men returned to their table not to bother Reno again. He took a seat he wasn’t offered, pushed the bottle of whiskey away, and asked the red-head the one question no one else bothered to ask:  _ Are you okay? _

Not pitiful. Not sad. Genuine concern. 

But Reno also remembered biting back with something harsh, 

And Cloud smiling in return, shook the guard he had put up against others. 

“I can give it a shot,” he finished his thought, looking into Cloud’s eyes like he wanted to lose himself in them again, “You’re shit at negotiating though, yo. You gave up your leverage too early.”

Cloud knitted his eyebrows together, until Reno pulled out the folder again he was sitting on and waved it in his face. “That wasn’t leverage,” Cloud said, “I wouldn’t hold your past hostage from you.”

“Heh, better person than me,” Reno reflected. 

“I also wouldn’t hold it against you,” Cloud continued, “Just so you know where we stand. The only person that needs to forgive your past is you.”

“That’s some line, Strife,” Reno clicked his tongue like an invitation, “is that what you tell yourself?

The blond shook his head, a smile dangling upon his lips, “No, that’s what you told me.”

That sounded about right. Another night. Neither bad nor good, just the two of them in their own basement cave with a bottle of vodka to share. Cloud didn’t drink the way Reno could, and he felt he corrupted the blonde just a little more each day with those tempting vices. And something about leading a boy scout to live on delicious pleasures sparked a part of Reno that had died. 

Somewhere between arousal and admiration. 

And in the midst of co-self destruction with Cloud lamenting about memories and the deaths he felt responsible for- Reno cackled at the lunacy. 

He had grabbed the blond by his head and told him to stop crying. To start living. Because: 

“If you keep on foot in the past and one foot in the future, ya gonna piss all over your present,” Reno corrected, “Now I remember.”

“Right,” Cloud stifled a laugh, “But our past has a way of coming back to haunt us, maybe figuring out what’s in store for the future we can stop it. Once and for all. And then...there’s just the present.”

Reno looked into those eyes that swirled with mako-poison. How they mimicked his own. Blues and greens that clash and sway like waves on the ocean. And in those eyes, on those good days and bad days, he found a place where he no longer felt wounded

Or broken

Or lost. 

And if Cloud Strife thought Reno the Turk could be redeemed…

Maybe there was hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> At first, when I started receiving inspiration for this story, I thought it would be a more light-hearted action romance. But then the angst fairy appears and whacked me over the head, so here I am. Again. With a moody character. Also, starting to realize a pattern with my characters in terms of unhealthy coping mechanisms with alcohol. and I think I figured I am working through my dad's alcoholism through my characters. So enjoy my therapy.


End file.
